Where Poppies Grow and Sorrow Seeds her Flowers
by Alyss Mainwaring
Summary: My commemoration for World War 1. Will in standing in a cemetery looking around thinking. Set after the latest book but you don't have to have read it for the story to make sense (I don't think there are any spoilers even).


_**For each countries fighting brave, may they rest in the peace that they truly deserve.**_

* * *

**Honour the dead, our country's fighting brave,**

**honour our children left in foreign grave,**

**where poppies blow and sorrow seeds her flowers,**

**honour the crosses marked forever ours.**

Will looked around the field. There were many graves that had been dug many a day ago, but there was no evidence of that now.

Except for the crosses that is…

Each cross had a name marked on it, if not then they had a small phrase, representing those who couldn't be identified. The brave who had paid the sacrifice without anyone knowing what had happened. There were letters sent home to notify the people of their death, but the places had been vague. No one had known anything.

But it was somewhere here that Will had began to live again. In the midst of all the monotone fighting, the blocking and attacking. Alyss had warned him of war, that is the war that would bring a whole lot of countries to a stand still. And she had been right. There was a stand still here now, a quiet deathly stand still.

Half the crosses weren't for Araluen's fighting brave, they were for the other side's. Too many crosses to count but all lined up there in the same manner. Each and everyone having broken someone's heart.

Will took a few steps forwards and ended up having to shift sideways as a poppy blew to brush up against his leg. The poppies dominated this field, in a similar to blood had on that day.

**Weep for the places ravaged with our blood,**

**weep for the young bones buried in the mud,**

**weep for the powers of violence and greed,**

**weep for the deals done in the name of need.**

Trees surrounding the area still bore witness to the killing that had happened in the field. Some had notches where arrows had flown at them in full speed, others had strange markings that Will never wanted to know about, but all told a silent story. None of the trees made a noise, none were whispering to the others about the stories. There wasn't a point. They had all seen the graphic nature of violence.

Underneath his feet Will knew that there were enough bones to make up a country, after all, they hadn't just fought for one battle for a day then moved on. It had been the sight of a long campaign drawing to a close. There were many days when the blood had flowed like a river and many others when it had simply sat still and dried in the sun as tactics were made.

The worst part was that it wasn't anyones war. It was only that of the leaders. Someone had approached another person and had started making allies. When they had decided that they had enough brute force to bully their way through Araluen, they had started to attack. No one had been prepared, no one had wanted it.

**Honour the brave whose conscience was their call,**

**answered no bugle, went against the wall,**

**suffered in prisons of contempt and shame,**

**branded as cowards, in our country's name.**

Will slowly went down and repeated his daily ritual every time he was passing through. No matter what he was doing, he always made sure to stop and commemorate everyone here. It didn't matter which side they had been on, it just mattered that they all had ended up dead in the same place.

There had been millions of families in their homes every night, hoping and praying that their town wasn't hit in the raids that appeared to occur randomly across the country. Even the rangers had to admit that they were random.

And then there were those who chose to stay home and protect the place with their loved ones. Who had chosen to not follow any others for the fact that they couldn't leave home, their families abandoned to whatever would befall them next.

Will had seen soldiers receive letters from the officials stating that their home towns had been attacked and that there were no survivors. It was the opposite to what everyone expected to happen. They were meant to be the ones to die, not their family who were meant to be safe at home. They were fighting for their freedom…

Most of those men left soon after that. They had no where else to go except back to where they came from. They were expected to start all over again from scratch. Each one of the men went back in shame that whilst they were out fighting on the war front in an attempt to keep everyone home safe, they had failed.

**Weep for the waste of all that might have been,**

**weep for the cost that war has made obscene,**

**weep for the homes that ache with human pain,**

**weep that we ever sanction war again.**

But as always, there were the men that never made it home. Those that sent letters to lovers and were dead the next. Will had seen a few men who had proposed through a letter to a women back home. More often than not, they had died the next day or in the next few weeks before the letter had reached them with a response. Sometimes, the woman back home had gotten the letter to say that her love had died before her reply had reached the camp.

But still, every time one of those letters did, no matter if the person was living or not, the camp celebrated. It was a necessary to retain morals, the main thing needed if they were going to keep fighting this blasted war. They celebrated what could or might have occurred. They celebrated the engagement and the wedding. They celebrated the lives.

**They mourned the deaths...**

**Honour the dream for which our nation bled,**

**held now in trust to justify the dead,**

**honour their vision on this solemn day:**

**peace known in freedom, peace the only way**

* * *

_Written for those in World War 1 which began today exactly 100 years ago. _

_The extremely sad thing was that I had a modern history exam today which focus on the two wars and Germany between them..._

_My teacher has a really sick sense of humour..._

_Aly_


End file.
